


More Than Fireworks --Deleted Scenes and Outtakes

by Burning_Up_A_Sun



Series: Georgia On My Mind [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Deleted Scenes, Fourth of July, Hamilton References in chapter titles, M/M, Matchmaking, Outtakes, The Road to Madison
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-06-09 10:07:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6901603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burning_Up_A_Sun/pseuds/Burning_Up_A_Sun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These are scenes outside of <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/6692569/chapters/15306085">More Than Fireworks</a>. </p>
<p>It's part of the <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/collections/CantHardlyWait_CheckPlease_DailyChallenge2016">Can't Hardly Wait</a> Daily Challenge, to celebrate the time between when Jack kisses Bitty and when they reunite in Madison.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Moms: We Get The Job Done

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elizajane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizajane/gifts).



> This is a daily challenge. My goal is to write something every day and some may be longer than others. I also suspect it will be a lot of different ships w/in OMGCP. 
> 
> As always, if you have no idea what OMGCP is, you aren't livin' life right. Go read [OMG Check Please](http://omgcheckplease.tumblr.com/episodes)
> 
> A HUGE thanks to [ElizaJane](http://archiveofourown.org/users/elizajane/pseuds/elizajane) for setting this beauty up. 
> 
> Finally, let's not forget why we're here: 

Suzanne sat back on her heels, her knees folded under her as she pulls tiny, pesky blades of grass from between her tomato plants. With a swig of sweet tea, she was back at the weeding. And the waiting. 

Samwell graduation should be about over, and Dickie would be taking the college's shuttle to the airport and would be home in plenty of time for his favorite dinner. Heck, she'd even made a chocolate cake from scratch, hoping to celebrate great news. Another year was done, Dickie’d passed his classes. And maybe something else. 

She stopped again to fan herself with her wide brim hat. And she heard that new song “Georgia”--almost missed the call because the dang new ringtone sounded like the neighbor’s radio.

Suzanne peeled off her gloves off and dug through her apron pockets, trouser pockets. Even pawed the ground looking for it before she remembered she’d tucked her phone into her into her bra for safe keeping. 

“Hey, Suz,” a cheery voice answered Suzanne’s _Hello_. 

Suzanne grinned, now well familiar with that American/Quebec lilt. She'd been waiting for Alicia Zimmermann’s call all day, to learn when Jack put their plan into motion. 

Suzanne fanned her face and listened to Alicia. 

“Bob’s talking to him right now. They're nose to nose but I think I'm not supposed to know.” Alicia spoke quietly into her phone. 

“We’re ridiculous, and I love it!” Suzanne giggled at the absurdity of two hockey moms playing matchmaker. 

Her knees aching, Suzanne rose from the garden and sat on the porch swing outside the kitchen door. She was irrationally excited to meet Alicia in person in July. 

“Oh! Oooh! Jack just took off running across the Quad toward the Haus!” Alicia squeeeed into the phone. “I'll bet Bob gave him the old Uncle Wayne line!”

She lowered her voice, and in her best Québécois accent said, “As your uncle says, you miss 100% of the shots you don't take.”

Suzanne heard a kiss, probably on Alicia’s cheek.

“Yesss!” Bob said, slightly muffled as he spoke to both of them. “Operation Zimbits is a go!”


	2. Moms: We Get the Job Done part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moms- they're not always lame. sometimes they text and play matchmaker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a tiny little one to catch up.


	3. I Can't Say No to This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suzanne is excited about #ZimBits, so she explored ice hockey FF.  
> Coach/Suzanne, Graduation night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, idek how I feel about this. I ought to be ashamed for Breathless, Needy Parents, but y'know. I'm just not.

“Now, what are you all smiley at?”

Coach laid his iPad on the bedside table and patted the crisp, clean sheets to his right. 

Suzanne giggled, giddy with Dicky’s happiness. She handed Coach her phone. “Alicia says Jack has been grinning ear to ear and I told her about Dicky at supper, being all sly and texting under the table. Like we couldn't tell from his smile that something was going on.” She pulled the cover over her bare legs and settled into bed. 

“Suzie, I warned you two about this. Y’all are playing with fire. When those boys find out--” Coach shook his head, and blew air out of puffed up cheeks, trying to sound like an explosion. 

Before he could finish, Suzanne cut him off with a finger waggling on his face. “And who's going to tell them? Hmm?” When Coach raised his hands in surrender, Suzanne laugh bubbled up. She poked him gently in the chest. “Listen, mister. Those two think we don't know anything because we’re old and stupid. But they have no idea.”

With her ceiling fan remote control, Suzanne dimmed the light and nudged the speed of the fanup just a bit. “Goodness, it's stuffy in here. Feels like the air conditioning isn't even on.” 

Coach pulled the comforter off and began to get out of bed. “I can go turn the temperature down, make it cycle on?”

“What if I'm just--wearing too many clothes?” Suzanne rolled onto her side toward Coach, who was her husband, best friend, chore partner, co-parent, her everything for the past 22 years. Suzanne smiled, her brown eyes dark as she held his gaze. “Love you,” she said with a soft smile.

Suzanne leaned forward and slipped her cotton camisole over her head, dropping it on the floor. “Yes. That is a bit cooler.” Then she drew the comforter back and shimmied out of her matching panties. “Yes, that is _much_ better.”

Coach cleared his throat; as he watched her movements, his tongue streaked his lips, moistening them. “I can't say no to _this_.” 

Suzanne leaned close enough to kiss the corner of his lips, nip his bottom lip, and when he begged her with needy, dirty sounds, she kissed him again. 

She loved the tiny scratches as his mustache brushed her lip. His big, rough hands, calloused from playing football. The cool feel of his foot as he swept his cold toes over her ankle. This was familiar, but nothing about it was tame; they knew each other’s body intimately, how to kiss and where to touch to satisfy each other. Her face flushed, she was breathless and needy, but he would take care of her. 

Suzanne’s heart raced as he kissed the tip of her nose and the corner of her closed eyelid. 

“You don't always like to fuck twice in one day--” Coach said, sliding his fingers through her hair. 

“I spent the afternoon online reading hockey fan fiction. So much porn. So much--” she didn't finish; instead she pressed her hand against his chest and slowly pushed him flat onto the bed. With a wicked grin, she drew down his boxer-briefs.

“Oh I one-thousand percent approve,” he said, the drawl of his accent thick. 

She loved seeing him like this, flushed and ready, laid bare by her passion and intensity. Her pulse tripped as she slowly kissed down his body. “ _This_ time you have to be quiet. Dicky’s home.”

“I'll try. But I'm not promising.”


	4. My Dearest, Bits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack doesn't know much about new fangled things like texting.  
> Besides, there's something more personal about a hand written letter. And he's smart enough to use the <3 . Or so he thought

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bitty notices Jack put a comma in the middle of a phrase. With one stroke, he consumed Bitty's waking days. He put a comma after Dearest. My dearest, Bits.

That boy. He wrote me a letter, then took pictures of it and emailed it to me. He said handwritten letters are more personal. 

Then he texted me to let me know he'd emailed me. 

He'll probably call to make sure I got his text. 


	5. Engaged in Speculation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shitty's noticed something weird with Zimmermann. Funny, Lardo's noticed something's weird with Bits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wonder whether JLZ/ERB's feelings just bubble up and spill over into their friends' lives.

Shitty hung up his phone and stared at it. Stared at the ridiculously cheery phone call's stats: 15 minutes with Jack Zimmermann. In the 4 years they've known each other they've spoken on the phone exactly 4 times. 

Three of those were Shitty calling from the murder Stop & Shop. "Brah, do we need beer?" To which Jack responded, "Yes." And hung up. 

The fourth was today. Shitty barely said a word as Jack chattered on about his new apartment, his teammates--every single one. Their names, strengths, what the book on them said. About the weather. 

Shitty was at a loss. He'd just heard more words than he thought Jack said all of senior year. So he did the only thing knew of: He Twitter DM'd Lardo. Maybe Bits would know what had gotten into Jack. 

  



	6. A Mind at Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, when you're house hunting, a house just speaks to you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> subtitled: A mom's mind is always at work.

The house in Madison had a secret. 

Suzanne knew it as soon as Coach and Dicky walked up the stairs of to check out the bedrooms. The realtor dragged Suzanne through the house and into the kitchen prattling on about square footage and subzero freezers. But all Suzanne heard was Coach and Dicky--upstairs in Dicky’s potential room--discussing the placement of furniture. 

Clear. 

_As if they were standing there next to her._

As the realtor looked up an answer to her ridiculous question, Suzanne looked around the room. Goodness gracious, the air conditioning diffuser above the cabinets was linked to that bedroom. 

And that was the icing on the cake for her, Subzero kitchen notwithstanding. Not that she would ever snoop or be That Mom, but sometimes, a child needed a little extra guidance. 

And if that made her a bad mother, then people could suck it. Because her baby boy had suffered enough. And she wasn't going to let it happen again if she could help it. She knew Saint Peter would have a lot to say at the Gates of Heaven about how badly she and Coach screwed up this year. How their beautiful, talented, sensitive son had been tormented by bullies and locked in a closet overnight. 

Suzanne swallowed hard and set her jaw. She told the realtor to draw up the papers and present their offer. 

“But you haven’t seen the bedrooms or the yard or--” the realtor stuttered, pulling at his tie. She’d thrown him off his patented spieled perfected from the course, ‘Sell 101 Houses in One Year.' 

“Bless your heart. Aren’t you adorable?” Suzanne cooed, pretending to care. “But I have a sixth sense about these things, and something’s telling me this house is perfect. And _you’re_ a genius for finding it for us!”

The realtor beamed as he sat at the table and filled out the reams of paperwork.

She called her boys downstairs and told them this was it. This was their forever home. Coach shrugged and said, “Okay.” Suzanne kissed his cheek; she loved that man. Too quiet sometimes, occasionally slow to pick up clues, but he was a good man. And a good father. 

And if, over the years, when Suzanne couldn’t sleep, she sat in the kitchen sipping hot tea and heard things, well, she would pick and choose what to listen to.

One night she heard what might have been voices from a gay porn video mixed with gasps and a choked off noise. After that, the sound stopped. Then, when Dicky returned from the hall bathroom and Suzanne heard the springs of his bed creak, she rinsed her teacup and returned to bed.

Or when she thought she’d do Dicky a favor and put away his laundry for him because he looked exhausted from his early morning practice. She made sure it looked like she’d never touched the magazine tucked at the bottom of his pants drawer.  
Suzanne might suspect Dicky was Queer. She might have seen and heard strong evidence over the past seven years they’d lived here. But she knew from her Tumblr that until Dicky chose to tell her, she didn’t know anything. 

_(“Mother. You have a Tumblr?” Dicky had whined as he hid his face in his hands._

_“Honey. I’m married, not dead. And Idris Elba and Chris Hemsworth--”_

_“Stop. Just. Stop.” Dicky closed his laptop with a repulsed groan and left the kitchen with it tucked under his arm.)_

And if, last night, she couldn’t sleep. And instead of bothering Coach, she came down to the kitchen for a cup of tea and some Dallas Stars RPF. And if she heard her son’s beautiful voice, talking to his best friend. Chatting about summer so far, Providence and the Falconers.

“I miss you so much,” Dicky had said. “I wish you were here.”

“I just want to kiss you again. Would that be okay?” To Suzanne, Jack had sounded almost embarrassed as he said it.

“God, yes. And--things,” Bitty had giggled as he said it, and Suzanne smiled as she quietly rinsed her cup. “But I don’t think we’ll get any time alone. My parents will want to show you everything.”

Suzanne tiptoed up the stairs to her room to give them the privacy they deserved. And, by the time she slipped between the sheets and curled up against Coach, she had her plan. 

And maybe it was time to talk to Coach about fixing some of the air conditioning ducts in the house.


End file.
